


just might be enough

by sunshineflying



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying
Summary: Harry wakes to a morning thunderstorm, his boyfriend Niall in bed beside him. The two share a tender, intimate morning, the thunderstorm the soundtrack to the private moments they share.





	just might be enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a smutty oneshot I started back when I woke up to a thunderstorm many years ago - before the hiatus and haircuts and solo projects. I wanted to get back into writing so I decided to give it a go by completing this. There's literally no point to this but I hope you enjoy it anyway xx

Harry wakes with a start.

It’s dawn and usually Harry gets up early, but not as early as this. There’s rain pouring down outside, pattering loudly in a gentle pattern on the window, and he smiles. He can hear the faint ending of a rumble of thunder – what woke him – and he smiles. He loves a good excuse to stay in bed.

His long limbs are still tangled up in Niall, who’s still fast asleep in his arms. Harry stretches, his legs sore from being curled up all night, and he smiles as Niall feels the shift and presses into him. Lazily, Harry leans up to pat a dry kiss on Niall’s cheek; he’s still asleep.

There’s a flash of lightning, and Harry’s arm wraps a little tighter around Niall’s waist as he waits for the loud thunder to follow. It does, and Niall stirs, but he doesn’t wake.

But now Harry’s wide awake and he knows the storm’s only meant to get worse, so he doesn’t even try to go back to sleep. He blinks, long and slow, and breathes in the scent of sweaty, musky Niall. Harry smiles against his shoulder where he’s resting his head for a moment. The thunder rumbles and Niall stirs again, this time by rolling his hips back against Harry’s.

Harry grins and knows it’s not long before Niall’s awake, too.

Outside, the wind picks up and the large droplets of rain slam harder against the window. Harry can see the angry gray sky through the curtains and he loves the serenity of an early morning storm. He caresses his large hand over Niall’s exposed hip; he loves the way Niall’s pants fall so low on him when he sleeps. His own are sliding down his hips, and Harry’s filled with the urge to shuck them off entirely.

Niall’s starting to wake now, he can feel it. Niall isn’t lying still in his arms anymore. Gently, Harry tips his head up to kiss Niall’s shoulder blade, and then the back of his neck, and then below his ear, and then finally Niall groans and tries to look over his shoulder. “’s early, Haz,” he mutters.

They’ve both got morning breath and of course it’s early, but it’s a dawn thunderstorm and Harry’s not going to be able to get back to sleep now so they ought to make something of it, he figures. The rain thrums down harder and there’s another flash of lightning, and Harry cants his front against Niall’s bum with a lazy type of urgency he can only really accomplish when he’s sleepy but can’t fall back to sleep.

Niall laughs and rolls onto his back in Harry’s arms. Harry’s hand rests gently on his tummy now, still soothing soft circles into his skin with his thumb. His eyes are puffy but bright even in the dull light of the storm, and Harry smiles at him. Niall laughs in reply; he can’t believe he’s actually awake this early. “It’s Saturday,” he mutters, like that will make a difference.

Harry just smiles and dips his head down, his long hair brushing Niall’s face as he bumps their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. He’d done that all the time before they were officially together, as a sort of question to Niall whether he could kiss him or not. Now it’s done for fun, something cute he does when he wants to draw things out and take them slow. Niall’s impatient though, so he tips his head up and takes a kiss from Harry.

It’s dry and slow and they could both use a good brushing of their teeth but it’s early and lazy morning sex doesn’t come around very often, especially with a thunderstorm as backdrop. There’s another rumble of thunder and Harry scoots closer to Niall, one of his legs draping over his boyfriends as the kiss grows deeper, tongues working lazily against each other.

Harry’s half hard in his pants now, and he’d very much like to just be absolutely naked, but he takes his time. The thunder gets louder, incrementally closer together like the storm is bearing down on them, and Niall pauses the kiss for breath. He’s not hard yet – he’s barely awake – but Harry knows he can fix that.

Niall pushes Harry’s curls out of the way as he looks up at him; he thinks it looks good on Harry but when they’re kissing like this, Harry on top of Niall, his hair’s always falling down and tickling his cheeks and nose. Harry knows it and likes the way it’ll make Niall smile. They lock eyes, still slightly puffy from sleep, and Harry grins. Niall lets out a little laugh in reply and pushes Harry’s hair back so he can look him in the eye properly.

Harry wants this now, and he knows that Niall does too. That look in his eye is familiar, unmistakable. Eagerly he starts to press kisses down Niall’s neck and chest, hands on either side of Niall’s body to steady himself. When he gets to his pants, he dips his fingertips inside the waistband and pushes them down. Awkwardly, Niall’s kicking them away while trying to avoid accidentally kicking his boyfriend; undressing always feels so clumsy.

When they’re gone, abandoned somewhere on the floor, Harry’s got his attention focused back on Niall. He leans in, hand holding Niall’s slowly hardening cock, steadying it as he lets a long drop of spit fall onto the tip. Niall gasps, the sudden warmth surprising him, and Harry uses it as slick as he starts to stroke. Niall’s chest is flushing pink already and his eyes are closed as his head tips back on the pillows and he lets Harry draw him to full hardness.

Harry would have never thought the storm would have actually made this hotter, but it does. Niall’s moans are soft and low, so gentle compared to the angry slap of big raindrops on the window and the rush of wind blowing it all faster outside. Outside is chaos, but inside is serene. Harry puts his mouth on Niall next, slowly at first until Niall’s writhing beneath him, desperate to feel the wet warmth of Harry’s mouth on more than just the tip of his cock.

Niall’s got his hands in Harry’s hair, pulling it out of the way, pulling it a little harder than necessary because he knows it’s what Harry likes. The duvet has slipped off the end of the bed and sheet is draped over half of Harry, and the chill from the room combined with Harry’s tongue has goosebumps spreading over Niall’s body.

Giving into Niall’s little pleads, he does exactly as he knows Niall wants, taking him deeper and deeper into his mouth until he thinks he’ll gag if he tries for even just one more millimeter. Niall’s fingers are tangled almost painfully in Harry’s soft curls now, encouraging Harry to continue. He’s fully hard in Harry’s mouth, legs parted easily, inviting Harry to touch all of him.

Harry takes his time, savors this, his tongue swirling the tip and his hand stroking gently over the length he can’t reach. Each breath Niall takes is labored and Harry can hear it over the patter of rain outside. Looking up, he can see how flushed Niall is, the way his eyes are closed and his swollen lips are parted. He’s enjoying it, and Harry loves to see that. A flash of lightning paints Niall in heavy shadows and light; Harry thinks he’d quite like to take photos of Niall in lighting like that; private ones, just like this, nothing to hide Niall’s perfect body from the camera lens but the shadows themselves.

With a pop, Harry pulls away and Niall looks down, pulled from his thoughts because he wants what Harry was doing to come back – it felt too good to stop. “C’mon then love,” Harry smiles, planting a soft kiss on Niall’s hip. “Get the lube.”

He kisses again, this time on Niall’s inner thigh, and then on his other leg, and on the tip of his cock, and all over until he’s sure he’s made Niall completely forget how to think. Niall stares for just a moment until a particularly loud clap of thunder jolts him back to reality.

Harry leans back so Niall can dig around in their bedside table. He pulls out a bottle and hands it to Harry, who smirks as he says, “It’s almost gone.”

Niall smiles back; now that they’ve finally finishing their metaphorical dance, the fleeting touches and glances and doubts as to whether the other felt the same, they go through things like lube a lot faster. There’s no worry, just adoration and a growing feeling of love, and it’s nice. It’s cozy and comfortable and exactly like this kind of morning – quiet and sweet and private. Harry pours some lube out on his fingers and reaches out to slowly glide it over Niall’s hole. It’s been a few days since they’ve done it, but not too long, so prepping Niall should be easy.

Niall’s laying back against the pillows, his bright blue eyes trained on Harry. A flash of lightning startles him but Harry’s so in the moment he doesn’t even flinch. He preps Niall with the greatest care, just as he always does, and the entire time Niall is on cloud nine, watching through the soft lighting of a dawn thunderstorm.

Very quickly, Niall grows impatient and he’s begging Harry to just do it, to get in him, and Harry will never tire of the sound of Niall begging, of that he’s sure.

Harry wipes what’s left of the lube out on his own cock, stroking himself a couple of times before looking back up at Niall. He pauses for a moment. Niall is a sight, disheveled and sleepy and sprawled out on the bed stark naked. He’s got his legs parted wide, his cheeks and chest flushed, his cock hard as it lays against his stomach, leaking out a little bit by his happy trail and his belly button.

Dipping his head down, Harry licks up the precum, Niall wriggling a little as Harry’s long hair brushes against his hips and his cock where he’s so, so sensitive and desperate now. Niall doesn’t speak. He reaches out for Harry instead, pushes his hair out of his face, props himself up on his elbows and nods to the headboard. “You sit,” he whispers.

He doesn’t have to whisper, but the moment is soft so he does anyway, and Harry loves it. He can hear how hoarse Niall is, even if he’s hardly spoken or moaned at all. It’s the morning that does it to Niall, makes him sound a little deeper than usual. Another flash of lightning drenches them in electric white light, and Harry climbs up to sit at the head of the bed as Niall gestured. Niall straddles him then, knees planted on either side of Harry, arms around his shoulders.

Niall likes it best like this, Harry’s learned. Enough practice and they’ve learned all of each other’s favorite things – positions, places to be touched, things to say during – it’s so intimate and special, a connection they’ve never shared with anyone else. Harry gets to look up at Niall in this position, and he likes it, watching Niall fall apart over him.

Harry holds his cock steady and his eyes stay locked with Niall’s as, ever so slowly, Niall lines himself up and starts to sink down. They haven’t done it bare much, but this feels serious, and they’ve talked about it, so it’s a thing they’ve been doing recently. It drives them crazy, Harry especially, and the feeling has Niall’s eyes fluttering shut as he sinks down.

He groans, and Harry echoes, his strong hands holding Niall’s hips, thumbs rubbing little circles into the hipbones, soothing him. The stretch always gets Niall, at first, but it’s a love-hate thing Niall has about it. The slight wince on Niall’s face will be gone soon enough, as it always is, but until then Harry watches attentively, adoringly, one large hand sliding up Niall’s spine.

Thunder rumbles around them and Niall rolls his hips as it does, stretching just a little more, adjusting, shivering. Harry feels so good inside him; it’s a feeling Niall’s not sure he’s ever going to find anywhere else, nor does he want to. Harry’s felt permanent in his life from very early on. Maybe it’ll always feel this way, or maybe it’s just because of the band, but either way, Niall wouldn’t be anywhere but here, in Harry’s arms. This is where he belongs, at least in this point in his life, and his heart pounds at his ribcage as he flutters his eyes open to lock gaze with Harry again.

Harry tips his chin up, and Niall smiles as he leans down for a kiss. It’s tender and soft, and Niall rolls his hips again. The kiss turns into a moan, Harry’s lips parting. Niall smiles. As soon as he starts to ride Harry, all kissing is off the table. Harry can’t focus when he’s watching Niall over him, riding him, holding him. Niall wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders to steady himself and takes his time.

Their eyes lock as they lean together, forehead to forehead, slick with sweat. Soft moans mix with the patter of rain and the diminishing loudness of the rumbles of thunder outdoors, and the moment feels surreal, like something they could’ve only dreamed about. They’ve made a lot of dreams come true, but an earth-shattering, life-changing love wasn’t one either thought they’d be able to find, especially after coming into such whirlwind fame.

But maybe the outside world just wasn’t enough for them. They needed the safety and security of the little bubble the five of them shared. They found in each other a person they could trust with the very deepest, most vulnerable parts of themselves. That’s how Niall found himself falling apart on Harry’s lap, riding him like his life depended on this love.

Harry’s lips drag over Niall’s neck, peppering the laziest of kisses every so often as Niall quickens his pace, feeling desperate for release now, having drawn it out so long.

Harry keeps one hand steady on Niall’s back, and moves the other down between them. He strokes lazily, twisting his wrist and flicking his thumb over the tip of Niall’s cock, and time slows down to nothing as they move together. It’s a little uncoordinated when Niall loses his rhythm, Harry’s hand a distracting but very welcome addition. Their foreheads bump lightly. Niall’s legs are getting shaky and his knee lets out a pang of pain, reminding Niall that he’s not as spritely and able to bounce back as he once was.

Every tick, every little thing, Harry picks up on, and oh so gently he stills Niall and urges him off his lap. He wants to mix it up, try something they’ve only done once before, something that made Niall come harder than Harry had ever seen him do before. “’m fine,” Niall says, glancing down at his knee.

Harry nods. “I know,” he says, climbing up on his knees on the bed, too. “Turn around. Wanna try this again,” he says. His voice is low and Niall can practically feel it reverberating against him as their bodies meet again, Harry flush against Niall’s back, cock pressing against the cleft of his arse cheeks. “Remember this?” Harry whispers in Niall’s ear.

Niall shivers. Last time they’d done this he’d felt so surrounded, so consumed by Harry, that he’d come without even being touched. Suddenly he’s filled with an urgency, a lust he hadn’t known he’d possessed, and he spread his legs just slightly on the bed.

Still behind him, Harry presses back inside Niall. The give is easier this time, Niall stretched a little from riding him, and Niall shudders a little as he’s filled up so quickly. Harry’s strong arms wrap around Niall, one hand splaying over Niall’s stomach, the other across his chest. Paired with Harry’s chin over his shoulder, hair in his face, lips right by his own, Niall feels completely consumed by Harry.

Harry rolls his hips, thrusts in and then out, and Niall shakes again, hands covering Harry’s. “Christ,” Niall mutters. It’s a lot – almost too much.

Niall arches his back, giving Harry a better angle, and Harry really wishes they had a mirror somewhere in the room so he could see just how beautiful Niall looks like this, curved against him, arse out, cock hard but untouched, begging for it.

Before Harry, Niall had never thought about things like this, how much he likes being the smaller one, likes having hands all over him. Harry’s hand drifts over his chest, teasing his nipples, sliding upwards, and Niall hesitates just a little before pushing Harry’s hand just the slightest bit higher.

Harry holds Niall safe around his middle and slows his thrusts just the slightest when he notices that Niall’s just pushed his hand to his throat. They’ve got to talk about that, it’s not something Harry will just _do_ in the moment, but knowing the thought is crossing Niall’s mind does things to Harry that he can’t explain. His thumb twitches just a little, knowing what Niall seems to want, and he doubles his efforts with his hips to make up for not giving into Niall’s demands in the moment.

Niall groans, and he’s shaking, and Harry knows that Niall’s getting close. “C’mon, love,” Harry whispers in Niall’s ear.

His tongue gently slides over the shell of Niall’s ear and he moans, so low and deep that Niall can feel it in his bones, like it was his own moan and not Harry’s. Niall’s quiet now, and the rain is slowing down, and there hasn’t been thunder for a while, and the entire moment is building up just right. Harry loves it best like this, when he can hear Niall fall apart. The slap of skin on skin, the labored breathing, and best of all, the way Niall’s breath catches in his throat and he stops breathing for just a second as he comes, spurting out onto the bedsheets in front of them without being touched.

Harry thrusts through it until Niall lets out soft little whimpers, doubling over so he’s on his hands and knees, scooting away just enough. Harry slows his hips and slides a hand down Niall’s spine, and then back over the perfect swell of his bum, and down his thigh a little bit. He drags his hand back up with his fingernails and lets Niall catch his breath.

Slowly, Niall crawls forward and Harry watches as his cock slips out of Niall’s arse, his hole pink and wet and gaping just a little. Niall looks over his shoulder and smacks Harry gently with a throw pillow. “Stop staring, would’ya?”

His cheeks are flushed, partially from the sex and partially, Harry would wager, from the way he’d been staring to hungrily, so intently. “C’mere,” Niall says, climbing off the bed.

He starts lowering to his knees but Harry stops him. “You’ve knelt enough this morning. You’ll fuck up your knee again.”

Niall chuckles. It’s just like Harry to worry more about Niall’s knees than a desperate, leaking hard-on. “Alright then,” Niall says, climbing back onto the bed.

He lays on his back, sprawled out all naked and flushed, some specks of come on his stomach, and he lays his head over the edge of the bed. Harry groans. This had been something Niall suggested they try a few weeks back, and even though Harry can’t look into Niall’s eyes this way, he loves watching his body, the way Niall reacts to everything.

Harry climbs off and stands at the edge of the bed, holding the sides of Niall’s face gently. At first, when Niall had suggested it, Harry laughed it off and said that Niall watches too much porn. But then Niall insisted they try it, said he wanted to know what it was like and if it was actually good, which led to it becoming a regular thing they did now. And every time, Harry surprises himself with how turned on he gets as they do it.

He leans his hips forward, the tip of his cock catching on Niall’s lip before sliding into his mouth. Niall swirls his tongue as best he can, and he reaches up to hold Harry’s legs where they met his hips, urging him along, controlling the pace. Harry groans and has to hold back. It’s a dangerous position to be in; he could easily hurt Niall like this, fucking his hips too far forward or something. Like this, he can watch Niall’s throat contract as he swallows, tries to take him deeper. He can watch every muscle in Niall’s body tighten, can watch Niall’s spent, soft cock twitch ever so slightly in renewed interest.

The rain is pitter-pattering against the windows now, a bird chirping outside as the sun peeks out through the curtains, across the corner of the bed, illuminating where Niall’s legs lay across the mess they’d made.

Niall moans around Harry and slides one hand back to brush a finger over Harry’s hole, and that’s it. Harry’s hips buckle and he tries to pull out, but Niall won’t let him. Half the time, Niall doesn’t mind swallowing, but some days he just doesn’t feel like it. Today, he must not mind, because he urges Harry along until Harry is spurting into Niall’s mouth, moans and a few obscenities tumbling out from his lips as he does.

He pulls away to let Niall swallow and looks at him for a minute, Niall sprawled out, naked and spent and a total mess across the blankets. Slowly, Niall sits up, brushing the back of his hand against his mouth to catch whatever droplets didn’t make it down his throat. Harry steps towards the bed and cups Niall’s cheek in his hand.

They kiss, slow and lazy and exactly like they did before the lazy morning turned into something much more labor intensive. Harry’s so gentle with Niall after, touching him like he’s porcelain, and Niall feels so protected and small but so content whenever they finish that he can’t imagine a world or a life where he can’t touch Harry like this.

As the storm slows to a stop, Harry takes Niall’s hand gently in his own. He washes him up in the shower, taking care to clean every crevice of Niall’s body. Niall massages the shampoo into Harry’s scalp, cares for him just as tenderly in return, and neither of them say a word the entire time. They stand in the mirror, looking through the slight bit of fog and steam that cover the mirror. Niall wipes away a circle in the middle and looks at the two of them, Harry a bit taller than Niall, standing behind him. They look like a proper couple like this.

Harry slides his hands around Niall’s waist, catching on his damp skin. Niall tilts his head to the right, leaning his temple to Harry’s cheek. The future is uncertain – it always will be, in this industry they’re in – but here at home, in this private space shared by only the two of them, things feel a bit more concrete. Niall feels at home in Harry’s arms, thinks they look _right_ when he takes in their reflection in the mirror.

They’ve never uttered the word _love_ , not in the romantic sense at least, and Niall’s not so sure he’ll ever find the courage for it. In a world of uncertainty, he thinks it’s better to leave things like that unsaid. Live in the moment. Enjoy what you can, for as long as you can. Everything can change in an instant, and he doesn’t want to get hurt.

Something in Harry’s eyes says that he’s thinking the same thing, or something close to it, so Niall keeps his thoughts to himself. What they have – it’s beyond words. It’s a silent understanding of adoration, of care, of _as permanent as possible_ that their lives will ever allow.

And like this, alone in a quiet house, Niall and Harry both think that just might be enough.


End file.
